Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers.
As I move through the challenge of writing a poem a day for a year, I’m trying different forms and experimenting. Today, my poem for The Stafford Challenge is a luc-bat, a Vietnamese poetry form that alternates six and eight syllables with internal and end rhyme scheme. I refinished my late grandmother’s table recently, and I often think about all the family members who have ever sat at this table – and all the stories told here. I wonder, sometimes, whether family members in Heaven get passes to visit and check on the living. And whether there is a kitchen full of spirits listening in, checking on us to see what we’re doing.
I hope so!
Family Gatherings
table transformation for our congregation of folks family pride evokes stories build laughs and jokes from past so those long gone will last through time ancestors living ~prime of life conjured husband and wife ~spirits pasts with presents - - its future gatherings to endure ages
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers!
Sunday was a day well-spent! We watched my dad preach in my childhood church via YouTube, and I texted my brother and his fiancee to check on them as they travel to New Orleans for the week. We had breakfast with our schnoodles by the fire, and then I painted 18 canvases to dress the Chamber of Commerce windows for National Poetry Month. Finally, we had a wonderful Zoom gathering arranged by Lainie Levin to meet other slicers face to face and enjoy conversation.
Part of my role in my school system is to oversee the L4GA Literacy grant, which offers funding for literacy events in the community. National Poetry Month is a fabulous time to plan some Open Mic nights, author poetry readings, and writing workshops. Last year, we created a progressive poetry walk around our town square, featuring a local poet’s poem he’d written about our rural town to the theme of Bloom!
For this year’s theme, Awakenings (our local Arts Council chose this year’s theme), we’re switching from a progressive poetry walk to a window dressing, thanks to our sensational Chamber of Commerce team, who has agreed to allow us to decorate the windows as a town square feature this year. These canvases will have poetry written on them in black letters.
If you are looking for a slice topic sometime this week and enjoy writing poetry, I would love to have some short poems (4-6 lines) on the theme of Awakenings. I’m curating a collection of poems on this theme by living poets to feature in our window. Some will be local poets who share readings in our coffee shop, while others will be from right here in the Slice of Life or another writing group….maybe you! I’ll change them out from week to week, so if yours is featured, I’ll share a photo of your poem on display sometime at the end of May on a Tuesday slicing day. You can add your poem in the comments on any day of my blog throughout March.
I’m sharing our palette color scheme below.
Poetry Invitation Elfchen
painting bright canvases National Poetry Month local business window dressings ~ awakenings ~
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers.
Our three schnoodles aren’t spoiled, but they do expect a hand-fed breakfast every morning, so my husband gives them bites of graham crackers or Teddy Grahams. As they were sitting by the fire on Sunday morning having their royal feast, I wondered about the origins of graham crackers. I was thinking that perhaps since the Huitain is a French form of poetry and poodles are a German breed but are the national dog of France, then maybe if the crackers were of French origin, I could work all of that into a poem and serve it up like a fresh-baked croissant, all buttery and warm.
It was not to be.
I learned more about graham crackers than I should know.
Boo Radley and Ollie eating graham crackers
The crackers do not have French origins, and they were not invented to feed little dogs a healthy breakfast snack. They were invented by a preacher, Reverend Graham, who baked them to dissuade physical affection. I got quite an eye-opening education about these seemingly innocent little wafers. Who knew?
Huitain Graham Cracker Purity
three schnoodles when hungry like graham squares breakfast with Dad inspired Mom to inquire to see where they started, these squares and bears *** oh my! a sermon: brimstone and hellfire! to repress our deepest carnal desire crackers were baked to dissuade our urges to keep us out of the funeral pyre *** stay dressed! eat crackers! say NO to merges!
Many thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers space to bud and bloom!
The earth laughs in flowers. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Today’s poem is a triolet, inspired by Barb Edler’s post yesterday. Before Barb’s mother died, she planted daffodils, and these are Barb’s favorite flowers. I, too, lost my mother (December 2015) and miss her very much – my mother’ s favorites were wild petunias and yellow roses. When I need to count blessings and decompress, I take my keys off the hook by the door and start up my little blue Caribbean RAV4 and go riding the country roads. I look for the blooms, the rolling hills, the hawks on wires, the cows in the meadows. It puts the world back in perspective for me – – I am here but for a blink of an eye, and whatever is worrying me, too, shall pass.
Today, let’s remember our mothers who have gone before us but who still wave to us in flowers! We still see you, Moms! #flowerhugs
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers inspiration and space to share
Today’s poem is a random line poem, constructed from a line heard or read randomly. My husband is an NCIS fan, and he’s in season 20. I’m usually reading or writing when he’s watching his show. I heard Kasey say she was going to drink a ginger ale (a drink I don’t think she likes). I jotted it down and wrote this random line poem.
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers an encouraging and safe space.
I’m borrowing a line or two from Lucille Clifton today, from her book Quilting: Poems 1987-1990, to write a borrowed line poem. This line in italics is from her poem “eyes”: I could say so much to you if you could understand me
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers to write each day!
Several years ago, I led a poetry workshop for teachers in my district using Mary Oliver’s Dogsongs as our text, inviting participants to write mirror poems inspired by the late great poet. One of my favorite poems in this collection is For I Will Consider My Dog Percy, which she wrote about her own dog following the form of Christopher Smart in the 1700s in his poem Jubilate Agno, or For I will Consider My Cat Jeoffry.
L-R: Fitz, Ollie, and Boo Radley in February 2024
Over the years, we have adopted several rescues, and they appear frequently in my writing. They’re all named after favorite Literary figures. We have Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, because he was abandoned and found behind a door, an outcast of his original people. His rescue organization named him Einstein for his matted and untamed hair when he was found. I wrote a For I Will Consider poem about my Schnoodle, Boo Radley.
We also adopted a badly-abused (mostly Schnauzer, but some poodle) Schnoodle named Henry at the time, who had road rash and a broken leg that required surgery to save and eight weeks of intense physical therapy with his foster mom. We followed his journey back to health online, and prayed they would place him with us. When the news came, we eagerly met the foster mom and welcomed Henry into the fold, renaming him Fitz for F. Scott Fitzgerald, the party animal author. Turns out, he’d been correctly named as transcendental Henry David Thoreau, because he doesn’t party. Here is a poem I wrote about my Schnoodle, Fitz.
Which brings me to King. He was a young stray found on the streets of north Georgia, and he was supposed to be our girl. I’d put in a request with the rescue about a year prior to welcoming King, but the rescue called one day to let me know that they had a Schnoodle who met all the matching criteria as a good adoptee for us….except gender. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet this boy who needed a home but who had been turned down by two other families. It only took seconds. King was renamed Ollie for my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, and rode home with us that very day we’d hopped in the car for the 3 hour drive to meet him.
I’ve never written a For I Will Consider poem about Ollie, so today is the day especially set aside for my trophy dog we call the baby..
For I Will Consider My Schnoodle Ollie
For I will consider my schnoodle Ollie.
For he was a young stray running the streets, a real canine gangsta.
For he was named King like royalty, taken to a foster castle.
For he was rescued, brought to our Funny Farm with his one true love: a ball.
For he was renamed Ollie after Mary, who loved dogs through and through.
For he needs no bells and whistles when simple will do.
For he realized all too soon he had brothers vying for position.
For he rejected all possibility of being low dog.
For he rose like a king to the throne.
For we call him the baby.
For he eats sheets.
For he listens for empty K-cup boxes to hit the floor....(for he eats those too).
For he bites ankles and eats Ada Limon poetry books.
For he places one paw on the head of his brothers (sibling annoyance tactic? or knighting?).
For there is no such thing as a quick pee when there are things to see.
For he "kicks" the ball with his nose like a gauntlet at our feet. Throw, he commands.
For he catches popcorn mid-air.
For he fully belongs in our tribe.
For we whisper to him: you're the best dog we've got.
For he returns our love with royal full-face kisses.
We had a local poet come to our town square coffee shop to talk about his collection of poetry in his book Dust. Ethan Jacobs, a graduate of our high schools and Auburn University, shared his inspirations and writing processes, and he held an audience spellbound for a half hour with his poetry. What a gift! Ethan majored in Education but chose to follow his passion of woodworking as his career path. We are so proud of Ethan.
I’m especially proud of him because one year prior to his reading, I sat in this very room with him to record several YouTube shorts of him reading his poems when his book was still a dream coming together. It was a glorious moment to see him holding his published book in his hands as he shared with his audience of 16 people ranging in age from teenagers to attendees in their 80s. I’m sharing a couple of those clips at the end of today’s post (we made QR codes of the videos and placed them in small frames around our county so that people in restaurants or places of business could scan them and discover a poem; and a few were even hidden in plastic Easter eggs!).
We’ve decided on our town theme for National Poetry Month this year.
Awakenings.
It goes with our coffee shop, the hub of our sharing, and the rural spring buds and blooms and greening of the world waking from winter.
And, perhaps, it calls to the inner poet.
Ethan reads from his book Dust
We gave attendees a time to write at the end of the evening. Here is my elfchen:
Awakening
awakening sunshine streams coffee brews ~ I leap into life......caffeinated, ready
I was there for a concert with my husband – to see Atlanta Rhythm Section at The Capitol Theatre in downtown Macon, Georgia, when I saw the landmark plaque on the historic bricks back in January. From Guale, the Marshes of Glynn to Lake Lanier and beyond, so much of Georgia History is steeped in the words of Sidney Lanier. I took a picture and turned to William Carlos Williams for the inspiration today in a borrowed line poem.
My oldest grandson turns 14 today. Last year, we went on a fishing trip together. This year, he went skiing with his youth group in West Virginia. Time is flying, and we love the time we share with him. Here he is, loving life.
Common Threads 